Christmas
by fewcherwriter
Summary: Christmas in the Adams/Foster/Adams-Foster families. Past/Present
1. Chapter 1

A/N: All right, I FINALLY found the name of Callie's therapist; therefore, I can continue/wrap up _Normal Fosters_. As an aside, I came up with the idea for this quick, seasonal series. Each chapter will be a year of Christmas days in the Foster/Adams/Elkin Stef's maiden name and Mike's can't be the same. Somewhere, I discovered Sharon's last name was Elkin. Frank's last name may not be Elkin, but it's either not Foster or Mike's isn't Foster household.

2000

Setting:

Mike and Stef Foster are married, living together in a townhouse. Mike is a deputy of the SDPD. Stef is a stay at home mother. Brandon is three years old. Mike's parents aren't in the picture, but Stef's, Frank and Sharon divorced are.

Lena is finishing her final semester of grad school at UCLA. She is also employed with the Los Angeles Unified School District at John Burroughs. Lena is hired half-time counselor and half-time sixth grade coach. That was JB's definition of teaching social studies and English, if she was lucky. Lena's first (and hopefully last) year of teaching for LA County exposed her to a completely different world than she'd experienced.

"He came," shrieked Brandon. Stef smiled and leaned into Mike for the few seconds they'd have in bed before their three year old ripped through the door. "Daddy," the bed sagged as Brandon jumped beside Mike, "come on. Mom," he pulled the blanket back, "hurry. I just knew it." With that Brandon ran from the room.

Mike nudged Stef, "come on. Apparently we had a visitor last night." He rolled from the bed, pulling some gray sweat pants on. "What's going on, buddy?" Mike yelled down the steps.

"God, it's 5:20," Stef groaned. She picked up the robe from the bottom of the bed and followed Mike downstairs. There were crumbs all over the living room carpet, but it was the one day out of the year Stef could only smile at the mess. Graciously accepting the coffee she'd programmed to brew the night before, Stef bent down beside Brandon, "wow, B. Your friend sure can make a mess." She laughed at Mike as he picked the last half of cookie from the plate.

Ignoring both his mother and father, Brandon had emptied his stocking all over the floor. He quickly unwrapped a foil covered chocolate Santa. After one bite, he tossed it aside picking up a light up yo yo, "oh my-" his excitement was interrupted with the changing colors. When the toy was unstrung, it too was discarded. "Bubble," Brandon's face flushed from the joy. "He got it all right. Everything on my list," he shook his head amazed.

Mike carefully stepped over Brandon's stocking in between the couch and tree. "What's this?" He asked innocently.

"I don't know," Stef peered. "Brandon," she nudged her son, "hey, what's Daddy have over there?"

"Not sure-" Brandon barely glanced at Mike before opening a box of markers. Doing a double take, he almost jumped across the table. Looking up at Mike then back at Stef, Brandon fell to his knees. "Daddy," he almost whispered throwing his arms around the handlebars of his new bike.

Mike out his coffee on the side table as he knelt beside Brandon, "black and red, just like you wanted. Even has black and red streamers," he ran his hand through the plastic attached to the handlebars. "Pretty nice, B," Mike messed up his son's all ready unruly hair.

"All right, boys," Stef had retrieved the camera from the kitchen. "We need to take a picture for Santa. Just like Grandma, he likes to see kids opening their presents," she smiled snapping a picture. "You think we can get through all the stocking stuff and see what Daddy and I bought?" Stef questioned Brandon, kicking some candy to the side. He was unfazed, though, his entire focus on the bike. Stef was glad he liked it. "Good job, Daddy," she squeezed Mike's shoulder. They'd saved for three months after seeing Brandon's letter to Santa.

Meanwhile…(and about seven hours later)

"Look who finally graced us with her presence," Dana set the casserole on the table.

Lena smiled at her mom, "thanks mom," she kissed her father on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me take that bath. I didn't realize how tired and tense I was," she sat at the table.

"You need to make it up here more often," Stewart answered his daughter. "Or you could transfer to a school in the city," he referenced San Francisco. "I'm sure UCLA has plenty of correspondent schools."

Groaning, Lena began to argue, "Dad-."

"Oh Stewart, what fun would that be. You know our daughter has a propensity for metal detectors and pepper spray," Dana rubbed her daughter's back. She kissed the top of Lena's head before grabbing a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, "we kid, dear. Your father and I are just glad you're home for a few days."

Lena took a drink of her water before smiling warily at her parents, "I'm glad to be here." Dipping her father then mother a serving of casserole, Lena spooned some on her own plate, "this is one thing I do miss," she took some spinach salad before passing it to Dana, "fresh produce."

"I thought there was some initiative to make fresh vegetables and fruits available to the more urban area," Dana commented handing Lena the fruit salad.

"Urban and most of the LAUSD are two different worlds, mom," Lena stated matter of factly.  
Even at Pepperdine, I didn't understand how lucky I am." She shook her head, "I was lucky you two value education like you do."

Stewart chewed his salad, "I give most of the credit to your mom. Before I met Dana, I was just a ranch hand with barely two dimes to rub together."

Dana rolled her eyes, "right, Stewart." Lena's father had come from humble beginnings but, he put himself through college and met Dana as a graduate student at UC Berkley. "We both worked hard, but seized the opportunities we were afforded. Those certificates didn't win themselves," she nodded at Stewart's outstanding teaching awards. He'd taught for the past seven years after retiring from as a civil engineer with Boeing.

"We're proud of you, honey," Stewart acknowledged Dana's compliment by covering her hand with his. "Even though we wish you'd make it back a little more often," he shrugged. The room was quiet as the Adam's enjoyed their meal. "Ah, Lena," Stewart looked at his daughter, "I thought you were bringing," he paused thinking, "Gretchen with you."

"Stewart," Dana cleared her throat, "I told you she wasn't able to join us this year."

Stewart looked from Dana to Lena and back again. Almost as if he were remembering the unspoken conversation, he quickly took a drink, "oh, of course-."

"It's fine, Dad," Lena's voice showed a small amount of tension. "We're on a break," she shrugged, taking a deep breath.

Stewart put his hand on Lena's arm in support, "oh Lena, I'm sorry." He put his fork down, "you two had been seeing each other since you started at UCLA, right?"

Lena clenched her jaw, "yeah, eighteen months." She moved some food around on her plate, "what's two years, huh?" She nervously laughed.

"What's the name of the girl you've been out with the past month or so?" Dana asked, clearly trying to change the subject. She'd spent many hours on the phone with a crying, then angry, followed by distant Lena. Getting the familiar glare from her daughter, Dana suddenly found the final pieces of spinach fascinating.

"Me," Stewart interjected, "I'm glad you dumped her. She always did seem so flighty."

Lena shook her head before bursting out in laughter. "Flighty, fabulous Gretchen," she gasped for breath. "Oh Daddy," Lena dabbed at the corner of her eyes, "I love you guys. You're the greatest." Finally, the three Adam's were able to stop laughing, "Gretchen is in South Africa with President Carter. She's spending the holiday working with his foundation," Lena shrugged, "a few weeks doing humanitarianism, six months in the Caribbean. It all equals out in Gretchen's world."

"Lena," Dana stood, taking the plates, "Gretchen has different priorities than you." She was met with another snort from her daughter, "just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad. Just different." Lena followed her mother into the kitchen with empty plates and bowls. "Honey, I'm sorry," Dana whispered, "I told your father."

Lena set the dishes in the sink. She put her hand on her mother's arm, "it's OK, Mom." She poured another glass of wine, "really. I'm moving on. Gretchen and I are just different." Lena shrugged, "plus, I'm with my family at Christmas. No negative thoughts today."

Meanwhile…

"Brandon, we have to eat all of our green beans if we want to have the energy to show Grandaddy how fast our bike will go," Stef instructed her son. Brandon dug at the beans a few moments before putting three in his mouth. The rest, he stuck underneath his turkey. Stef shook her head. "Mom," she hissed as Sharon laughed at her grandson. "B, Santa's keepin' that list," she looked sideways at her son.

Brandon laughed, "Mom," he giggled, "he's sleeping. Like Daddy, he's tired."

Mike laughed, "I like your logic, Son." He got up from the table and walked into the kitchen, "Frank, can I get you another one?"

"I'm good, Mike," Frank called tipping his bottle. "I've gotta make sure the lady gets home this evening." He looked over at Sharon who rolled her eyes. "Plus, I have to be at work in the morning. Early bird shift," he explained. Frank had about eight more years on the force until he could retire. When Stef married Mike, he wasn't surprised, but he'd always hoped his daughter would at least marry a detective.

Sharon smacked her ex-husband on the shoulder, "I think I can find my way home. It's not New Years, it's Christmas. Not exactly oozing danger."

"You'd be surprised," Mike sat back down. "Captain was telling us Christmas is one of the top 10 most dangerous days of the year." He shrugged, "DUI's double. Of course, it's probably all the father's who spend hours trying to put those toys the in laws buy the kids together."

Stef rolled her eyes, "good thing Mom and Dad came over here. I'm pretty sure you could qualify." The table fell quiet. "All right, B. You only have two left," she cheered Brandon on. He quickly grabbed the last two beans, "yay!" Stef looked at Frank, "you ready, Grandad?"

"Of course, I'm ready," Frank stood back from the table. "I hope you've practiced, buddy. We don't need any skinned knees or broken noses," he picked up Brandon's helmet. Sharon had bought it for him after Stef reveled Santa's surprise. "Safey first," Frank rolled his eyes and finished his beer. All that protective gear seemed like overkill to him. He'd grown up and managed to live long enough without helmets or seatbelts. Taking Brandon's hand, Frank invited Mike, "let's leave the pie to the ladies."

Mike grabbed the handlebars and followed Brandon and Frank to the courtyard, "yell when you're ready, babe."

"God," Stef sighed at the shut door. She started to clear the plates and leftovers. Setting the dishes into the sink a little too hard, Stef started running water, rinsing the plates. She jumped as Sharon came behind her with the turkey, "whoa."

Sharon set the turkey on the topof the stove, "OK, spill."

Stef looked over her shoulder. Sharon was carving the turkey from the bones. She turned back to her dishes, "sometimes he is just," she paused shaking her head. "I don't know," Stef trailed off.

A few moments passed as Stef loaded the dishwasher and Sharon put turkey in baggies. "Are you guys talking about any more kids?" Sharon asked. She was surprised at Stef's laugh, "what?"

"I can't imagine we'd be able to not fight long enough to even discuss it," Stef admitted. "That and actually sleep together," she added.

Sharon smiled to herself. Stef never had a problem sharing. She wasn't a closed book, that was for sure. That trait was both a virtue and a vice. Sometimes Stef could overshare a little bit. "Honey, everyone hits a dry spot," Sharon began. "Mike's a good guy. He has a good job, is a good dad-"

"I'll give you a good dad," Stef admitted. "It's not all Mike," she sighed wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I don't know," she trailed off. Sharon didn't know how much Mike drank. He did provide for she and Brandon but Stef was beginning to wonder at what cost. More than she cared to admit, Mike had called her in the middle of the night to pick him up at a bar. The job was stressful, Stef had seen the toll it took on her dad and her parent's marriage.

Sharon put the bags of turkey in the refrigerator. Turning to Stef, she gave her daughter a hug, "I don't know either, hun. All I can tell you is follow your heart. It'll all work out." She stepped back from Stef, looking her over, "now, I have a grandson I'm dying to watch do tricks on that new bike."

"Don't get too excited," Stef put down the dishtowel, "he can go in a straight line. Mike stood at one end of the sidewalk, I stood on the other. He'd pedal between us and we lifted him, bike and all, turned him around and set him on his way." She followed Sharon through the dining room, "I have to admit, Christmas with a toddler is pretty great." Stef shut the lights off as they went outside. She put her arm around Sharon's waist, "it's been fun watching Brandon, too." Stef paused as Sharon got the joke. The two laughed as they made their way across to the boys.


	2. Chapter 2

2001

"Mom, I swear, it is the absolute most amazing school environment," Lena gushed about her job at Anchor Beach. The school had only been around for three years. Sure, there were growing pains, but the entire concept of the charter school had both intrigued and challenged Lena's very concept of education.

Dana smiled to herself as she diced sweet potatoes, "I'm so happy for you, dear. You're lucky to have found a place you are so in love with so quickly." She set the casserole dish on the island and reached to preheat the oven. "The pictures from the website are stunning," Dana slid past Lena as she got the milk from the refrigerator.

"Personally, I think they're lucky to have found such a qualified applicant," Stewart refilled his coffee.

"I can't agree more," Dana agreed adding a splash of milk in her husband's cup.

Lena rolled her eyes in mock exacerbation, "it's not like they handed me the keys." Dipping her finger into the batter, she glanced at her parents, "yet." Happy with the consistency of the pancake mixture, Lena put it in the refrigerator, "seriously, you two, get a room."

Dana tossed her the dish towel, "it's Christmas, honey. Misletoe, eggnog, plus look at this bracelet your father surprised me with." She smiled as Stewart kissed her cheek.

"You two make it look effortless," Lena sighed.

Stewart began to walk from the kitchen, "it's not effortless by any means." He caught himself, feeling Dana's glare, "of course, your mother makes it almost effortless." Turning back around he pointed the paper he held at Lena, "the secret is 'yes, dear,' 'of course you're right, what was I thinking,' and 'obviously, I married up.' Those three phrases will get you through anything." He grinned at Dana whose eye roll Lena had inherited.

"Your father's a comedian now," Dana finally returned his smile. "I'll admit, he's mostly right. You, however, may want to find someone willing to say those things to you. Not criticizing your self-confidence but imaging those coming from you," Dana trailed off giving Lena a side glance.

"Please, mom," Lena crossed her arms, "I'm the queen of humility and platitudes."

Dana raised her eyebrows, "really?"

"What your mother means is marrying up will be difficult for you. You'll find that someone," Stewart said sitting in the living room. "And when you do the mantle will finally be balanced. Two on the left, two on the right," he motioned to the stockings.

"He's right," Dana agreed. She turned put the sweet potatoes in the oven before switching the beeping off and resetting the timer, "don't settle, though, dear." She handed Lena the peeled pineapple to chop, "that someone is a remarkable woman. Don't settle for white gold when you can have platinum." Dana held up her wrist as an example.

"Words to live by," Lena mumbled as she carefully began the pineapple.

Stef put the suitcase by the door. She took the cardboard box "Santa" had delivered Brandon's Power Pop-Up T Ball set. Dropping it beside the sofa, she knelt and picked up the gifts she, Mike, and Brandon were taking to her mother's house. Sharon moved to Riverside in April after accepting a job at Mission Inn. As a historical preservationist dream jobs were a luxury. It was a nichey profession, but Sharon's joy for the field and particularly this hotel endeared Stef.

She and Brandon made the two hour trip almost a month ago for the kick off of the hotel's Christmas light celebration. The hotel's décor stretched nearly a block. Allegedly the display ranked in the top five nationwide. Mike had been on duty that weekend. Stef had enjoyed the two night respite. She wasn't as lucky this go round. Stef sighed as she reached for the three gifts behind the couch. They were tucked away Sharon would have the opportunity to see Brandon's face when he learned Santa visited grandparents too. Glancing at the clock, then her sleeping son, Stef set the box beside the suitcase. She and Brandon would be riding with Mike to Sharon's, but since he worked Thursday and Friday, Sharon would drive them to San Diego Sunday morning.

Mike worked the graveyard shift. He just walked through the door as Brandon burst into Stef's bedroom. After seeing Brandon's excitement over Santa and the gifts he'd received, Mike crashed. He startled awake as Stef shook his shoulder, "hey," he sleepily rubbed his eyes.

"Come on, Mike," Stef impatiently crossed her arms. "Mom wants to eat around four. Go shower," she picked up the travel clock from her side table.

Slowly, Mike eased from the blankets. "What time is it?"

"Time to get your ass in gear," Stef answered. She paused as she headed toward the door. It was Christmas and Mike had been genuinely excited while Brandon opened his gifts. Stef decided she could be tolerant, "otherwise known as 10:47," she looked at the clock.

Mike waved her off as he grabbed his towel, "I'm going," he mumbled.

Stef went back downstairs putting the clock in the front of the suitcase. She then sat on the edge of the couch watching Brandon sleep until she heard the shower stop. "Hey, Sweetie, time to get up," she rubbed Brandon's back. He mumbled like Mike had. "Come on buddy, we need to see what Santa left at Grandma's," Stef laid down new jeans and sweatshirt.

Santa was instant motivation for Brandon, "do you really think he found her house?"

Nodding Stef went into the kitchen, "of course," she called. "I bet he's been there before."

"So, he's like an elephant?" Brandon questioned pulling on his sweatshirt.

"Yeah," Stef furrowed her brow trying to understand her son's logic.

Leaving his pajamas in a pile, Bradon took the cup of juice from his mom, "that's a big memory."

Stef smiled running a wettened comb over Brandon's head, "it sure is, buddy." She heard Mike coming down the stairs, "put your razor in the front pocket, Mike." Handing him a cup of coffee, Stef picked up Brandon's pajamas and packed them. "Where are the candy canes I asked you to pick up last night?" She asked Mike.

Mike closed his eyes as he pulled on a sock, " I'm sorry, Stef. We got slammed and Mitchell was-" he stopped when he saw Stef's face.

Stef was clearly annoyed. "Don't worry, I knew to expect it. I grabbed some," she revealed.

"Really?" Mike echoed the her frustration. "If you all ready had them, why all the voicemails and ten questions?"

"Twenty," Stef corrected tossing his shoes to him.

Mike looked up, confused. "Huh?"

Stef bent down and tied Brandon's shoes, "twenty. Twenty questions, not ten." She patted Brandon's thigh groaning as she stood, "the game is Twenty Questions."

"Fine," Mike didn't want to argue. "You ready to roll, buddy?" He asked Brandon. Brandon nodded, "good deal. I hope Grandma left plenty of milk for Santa."

Brandon agreed, "and water for Rudolph." He smiled at Mike. "I bet he and Prancer were panting like Sam when he plays fetch with me," he said solemnly

"You know it. Ready my boys?"Stef leaned on the door jam. "Your sleigh awaits my little elf," she held out the keys for Mike.

"Wonderful pancakes," Stewart added another one to his empty plate. Lena smiled across the table. "Almost as good as your mom's. Watch out, Dana, tastes like Lena is going to give you a run for your money," he took a bite.

"Perhaps," Dana drank some wine, " but like any reproduction, it will never be the original." She took a serving of fruit salad, "they are good, though, dear."

Lena smiled at her parents. After getting in so late last night, she felt herself relaxing for the first time in nearly a year. A lot had changed since last year's Christmas brunch. She pushed the sweet potatoes around her plate.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Stewart touched Lena's arm. Shaking her head, Lena focused back to the table. "Gretchen?" He probed a bit further.

Giving her father a half shrug, Lena finally nodded, "yeah." She pressed her lips together. Even though she and Gretchen had broken up over eighteen months ago, it had been only three months since Lena had been thrown into the most difficult four nights of her life. The images of airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center flashed over in her mind.

Dana watched sensing Lena's private slideshow, "she was welcome. I called her about a week ago."

"She told me," Lena acknowledged. "Thanks for making the effort," she took a drink of water. "You know Gretchen, though. Even after the horrific Fall, she's not willing to commit to Christmas brunch," Lena rubbed her tense shoulders. "Let alone a relationship," she added. Lena had caught the first flight possible from Los Angelas to New York in the days following September 11. She'd compulsively dialed Gretchen's number over 300 times. Busy circuits, voicemails, it was impossible. Despite semi frequent trips through Newark while dating, it felt almost like traveling in the Middle East in that first week post September11. Every ten yards it seemed soldiers patrolled with assault rifles.

Dana made eye contact with Stewart, "anytime, Honey." She took another drink of wine, "she's an important part of your story."

Stewart nodded, "any part of your story is part of ours."

"Thanks," Lena said quietly. "I was more enamored with the mystique of Gretchen rather than Gretchen the woman," she admitted. " I stumbled into the lobby like a crazy woman, thankfully Carlos was on duty. He remembered me from back in the day. He told me Gretchen was safe, but I had to see her myself. I pounded on her door for over five minutes. When she finally came to the door, she acted as if she had not a care in the world. I'm a pacifist but that went out the window for a minute," she gave a tired smile. "Anyway, enough bad memories. Here's to great parents and an amazing job," Lena raised her glass.

"Cheers," Stewart clinked her glass. "So, admissions for a ritzy charter," he trailed off.

Lena rolled her eyes, "it's a far cry from John Burroughs, but it's not all that ritzy. Over forty percent of our students are free or reduced lunch." She looked at Dana, "they tend to promote within. Rumor mill is Govenor Davis is going to go federal." Lena shrugged, "I can't see it with a Republican President but stranger things have happened. If he goes, Dr. Johnson is going to shoot for Secretary of Ed. My vice president, Karina is likely to get the job. That'll leave a vacancy." Lena smiled, "I think I have a legitimate shot."

"That's great, honey," Dana nodded. "Your father and I talk often of our relief for this environment. We know you learned a lot at JB, but not a day passed we weren't nervous," she admitted.

Stewart backed his wife, "I was kidding about the ritzy. Anchor Beach's social agenda is ambitious." He pushed his plate back and dipped a bowl of fruit, "it really is a perfect fit for you." He stabbed a piece of cantaloupe, "hopefully in a few years we will be able to see you more than two days at Thanksgiving and three at Christmas. Don't get married to your job."

"I won't, Dad," Lena promised. "We had a really great holiday program Thursday. It's a tradition. All the kids wear super dressy clothes. Ties and dresses. Clubs, classes, and even staff perform and serve a special lunch," Lena scooped the last of her potatoes. "It's more a learning community than school. I did a large project on the concept. It's rare for it to actually work. Teacher and admins dedication to the mission seems to be paramount," Lena shrugged, "Anchor Beach's seem to be all in."

Brandon had fallen asleep in the car seat 30 minutes into the trip. His early morning breakfast of chocolate Santa, candy canes, and homemade peanut butter balls kept him rolling but when he'd crashed, he crashed hard.

Mike and Stef shared minimal conversation. Stef watched as they sped toward Riverside. There'd been far too much yelling and hurtful words thrown between she and Mike the last six months. She could be field level at the Murph during a wild card match up and the atmosphere in the car would still deafen her. Feelings were funky. The only possible way for her to feel any better would be talking to Mike. The resentment, loneliness, disappointment and anger she harbored prevented her from approaching him.

Mike in her estimation had or was becoming an alcoholic. Until he sought treatment for that any communicating Stef tried would be a waste. Mike didn't see it. Often the only way to begin facing the really hard things in life began with almost impossible conversations.

"Stef," Mike's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I asked if you were planning on going to Vanessa's New Year bash."

Stef opened her eyes really wide, then squeezed them shut, "sorry. Didn't hear you." Mike audibly sighed. "I don't think I'll be available that evening. We discussed this," she trails off.

"Duly noted," Mike said. "We did talk about it. That was when I was sure dad wouldn't be there. I know how you feel about him. You never gave me a solid answer. Now I can let Van know Foster party of 1."

"Yeah," Stef began, "sorry about that. It's just bad timing. Maybe next year."

Mike shrugged, "or the next or next. You've said maybe next year for seven years now. Do whatever you want, Stef.

"OK," she mumbled turning her body more towards the window. She heard Mike sigh, again.

They continued to drive in silence. Mike pulled into a service station for gas on the outskirts of Riverside. Much to Stef's dismay he carried two 6-packs of beer and some sort of liquor in a plastic bag.

"Planning on a dry county?" She asked curtly.

Mike set the drinks on the floor at Brandon's feet. "You never know," he replied slipping in the driver's seat. "Never know."

Lena, Dana, and Stewart were sitting in the television room watching A Christmas Story. Lena had grown up with it. Christmas brunch had been served, dishes clean and put away. Gifts too were unwrapped. This was Lena's favorite time of Christmas. Sitting on the sofa, her legs draped across Dana's with a warm cup of hot chocolate. Lena wondered in that moment if life could be better than right now. A lot of people turned to religion or artificial means to find peace. Lena respected that, but she didn't need it. Having the opportunity to be with her mother and father was Lena's nirvana. That was her last thought before melting deeper into the couch and falling asleep.

Stef and Mike were halfway through dinner at Sharon's. After Mike's alcohol run, the all ready strained car became unbearable. Stef fished her sunglasses from the console to hide the tears. Mike may be clueless, but he wasn't naïve. He knew his wife was barely hanging on. The lump inhis throat made it hard to swallow. Gritting his teeth, Mike glanced at Stef who was staring out the window. He finally pulled into the driveway at Sharon's. Without a word, Stef got out of the car, unbuckled Brandon and left Mike in the driver's seat.

"Stefanie," Sharon came to the stoop. A warm smile welcomed the family, "I'm so glad you made it. And there is my handsome boy," Brandon ran up the walk into Sharon's arms. "You are getting so big."

Brandon giggled, "did he come?"

Sharon faked her answer, "who?" She looked at Stef over Brandon's head, "did you invite a guest I'm not aware of?" Stef shrugged. "Hhmm," Sharon set Brandon down, "tell me about this he you speak of."

"Santa," Brandon was wiggling from excitement. "Santa Clause from the North Pole," he ducked behind Sharon and ran into the house.

A few seconds later there was a shriek. Stef walked to her mom, "I guess he made it."

Draping an arm over Stef, Sharon pulled her close. She was concerned. Stef was pale and looked like she'd lost weight. She glanced toward the vehicle. Mike was just sitting there, staring blankly at something. "You OK?" Sharon whispered.

"No," Stef shook her head. "Not now, though, OK?"

Sharon nodded, "of course." She followed Stef into the house, "is Mike coming in?"

Stef pursed her lips and shrugged, "who knows. He may have been waiting until we came in so he could load up on some ETOH." She ran her hand through her hair, "oh well." Peeking around the corner she grinned at a statuesque Brandon, "have at it son." She reached for her mother's hand leading her to the couch. They watched with joy as Brandon celebrated gifts for the second time. He opened up a toy police set which was quickly discarded. 

"I thought you'd like that," Sharon quizzically looked at Brandon. "Figured most boys at one point want to be an officer. Plus, you could put ypur gear on and be like your daddy," she pointed out.

Brandon looked up solemnly, "that's OK. I'd rather be a chef like mommy."

Stef snorted. Despite the accuracy of Brandon's statement, the honesty hit her in a place only he could touch. For the first time she let herself feel the pain. Clearing her throat, Stef swallowed hard, trying to force the tears away. It was in that instant she knew the answer to the question she didn't even have the courage to ask. Looking at the wall of family pictures, she silently said there'd never be another Mike, Stef, and Brandon. A mix of relief and profound sadness overtook her. The tears fell freely.

"It'll work out," Sharon pulled her daughter into her shoulder. "I promise, you'll figure it out. For today, let's try and celebrate, yes?" Stef nodded and wiped her face. "All right, you two. I have potatoes to mash. Why don't you clean up the paper?" With that, Sharon went into the kitchen.

.


End file.
